


One Day Soon

by Occasionalcoffeethereturn



Category: The X-Files RPF
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-18
Updated: 2016-04-18
Packaged: 2018-06-03 02:01:30
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,373
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6592174
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Occasionalcoffeethereturn/pseuds/Occasionalcoffeethereturn
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>What if God told you to be a better person but the world wouldn’t allow it?</p>
<p>Set backstage after David's performance in Break of Noon.</p>
            </blockquote>





	One Day Soon

He'd left his wife talking animatedly to a group of people, her mad gesticulations and laughter flying everywhere. Wife. He used the term loosely, they were hanging together by a bare thread. She was oblivious to him sloping off backstage and he darkened the bright lights around his dressing table, not wanting to see the pallor of his own face in the mirror. He sunk into the chair as he cracked the seal on a water bottle, took a long drink and fumbled in the drawer for a couple of aspirin.

He heard the door click shut behind him and could feel her presence in the room. He couldn't fathom the energy to look around at her but he knew she wouldn't mind.

Slim, nimble fingers came to rest on his shoulders, massaging the knots out of his muscles and he finally met her eyes in the mirror.

'I'm so glad you're here. Thank you for coming all the way out here.'

'I said I wouldn't miss it.'

'I know... But... I mean it. Thank you, it means a lot to me.'

She smiled at him, her thumbs rubbing across his spine, pushing between his muscle fibres with firm strokes and smoothing over him with her palms. 

He was surprised and overwhelmed she'd made the journey over here for him, to see him on stage for his opening night. He knew in his heart he wasn't really worth the three thousand mile trip. He wasn't a born actor like her, he'd learned the craft, mostly taught himself and muddled his way through. He could just about get away with high end television with a character he could get to know but her? She was born to be on stage, she thrived there. It wasn't for him and it was totally out of his comfort zone.

'Hey you're sick, David you have a fever.'

'I know... I look like shit and God I'm so tired.'

Her hands moved over the heat of his skin, pausing to rub up and down his forearms. He was roasting, but she could feel tiny tremors of shivers as they shuddered through his body.

'You don't look like shit, not to me. You look sick.'

His hand trapped hers between his bicep and she allowed his fingers to twine with hers.

'Do that thing you were just doing on my back. It was really nice.'

Massaging his back had become something of a habit in the cold nights they'd had filming in North Vancouver and Whistler. He was tense, lost and hurting. She had felt happy before she arrived, fairly satisfied with her life. But the longer she spent with him the more she felt his pain and the more she longed to be there for him, to help him. She needed to feel close to him. They'd always relied on touch to help each other, to feel close with one another and had muddied the boundary between friends and something else on more than one occasion.

She splayed her fingers, digging them into his flesh in circles and pushing her thumbs in the same pattern behind them. She shuffled closer to him, burying her nose in his hair and pressing kisses to his scalp. 

She heard him hum in approval and he twisted in his chair, pulling her head down so her lips were on his. It was her turn to moan against him as she opened her mouth without thinking, her tongue finding his and twirling around.

She broke away from him, breathless. 'I can't. I'm sorry.'

He kissed her again, long and chastely but with the heat of his desire for her behind it.

'I know, I can't either. But I can't apologise for wanting you.'

Her lips were on his again and she stepped closer to stand between his legs, her hands stroking the damp skin of his face as his roamed down over her back and he squeezed her ass cheek gently.

'Don't... I really can't.'

'I'm sorry.'

He dropped his hands by his sides in defeat and frustration. He couldn't deny he wanted her and even with his estranged spouse in the same building and her in an apparently committed relationship he couldn't stop himself. Something existed between them beyond their understanding that they were both powerless to stop.

'It's getting harder to not want more when we're alone together.'

She nodded and pretended not to notice that his hands were rubbing up and down the outside of her thighs, his searing heat seeping through the thin material of her skirt.

'Maybe I should go.'

'Maybe.'

Her legs had spread for him instinctively and her arms had found themselves looped around his neck, her fingers taming and stroking through his hair.

'This never used to happen with us. We could manage...'

'Barely,' he interrupted. 'I barely managed.'

His hands strayed lower down her skirt, one finger flicking under the hem to touch her bare skin and she gasped. He stopped, his hands still, curling his fingers away from her to stop them biting into her flesh.

'This is so hard David. Not giving in is so hard.'

His hands clenched to nearly make fists around her hips and her legs spread wider for him. How the hell was he meant to concentrate when he could smell her just inches away from his face?

'Then make it easy.'

She shook her head to say no, her forehead bumping against his before resting against it. She was meant to pull away, to free herself and turn around towards the door. But her lips somehow reconnected with his, her tongue inside his mouth as she nipped and suckled on him. His hands pushed under her skirt, climbing firmly up the smooth skin on outside of her thighs. His fingers reached the diagonal edge of elastic and lace and he traced over the sharp border between skin and underwear. If his fingers ventured closer he'd cross a line he wasn't sure he could come back from.

'Let me make you feel good.'

'Me or you?'

'Both of us Gillian.'

She pulled her face away from his, holding his head to cradle it between her breasts, her nipples taught with the sight of the proximity of his mouth. 

His finger ventured towards the moisture between her legs and hooked under the elastic as his mouth lapped at the sweat between her breasts.

'No don't... Please don't David... I can't. I can't do this.'

Her voice was firm with him this time as she pulled his head away from her chest and stepped back quickly from his straying hand. She was breathing hard, her hair had virtually all escaped from her ponytail and her lips were wet, red and flushed.

'I'm sorry. I shouldn't have pushed you.'

'You didn't. I was quite the willing participant. I'm sorry. I started it. I didn't mean to... To lead you on.'

He gave a single nod, adjusting himself in his pants to try and hide his erection as he grabbed a towel from a pile on the chair to dry off his face. 

She reached to grab hold of his hand, their palms hot against each other's.

'We're good?'

'You don't need to ask me that. Of course we are. About the only damn thing that is at the moment, is you and I.'

'David...'

'Sorry.'

He looked at her then, his eyes soft and his hand gently holding hers. They were close to one another again, their poles aligning like magnets. 

'If you kiss me again...' she stopped.

'If I kiss you again what?'

'It's taking every ounce of self control I have to walk away from you David. I don't want to anymore than you want me to go. So please... I can't take anymore.'

He nodded again, bringing her hand to his lips and kissing her knuckles instead. She could only silently squeeze back in response as he opened the door to reassume the act that was their lives.

'One day. Soon.'

As she stepped out into the noisy corridor she wondered if he'd meant for her to hear his comment or not. Above everything else, she prayed to a god she wasn't sure existed that he was right.


End file.
